


Overwhelming

by libaax



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4408967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libaax/pseuds/libaax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve always been cautious about interacting near the other members – always one breath away from being that friendship, the ones that always talk about the wrong things, that always single each other out just a little less naturally than their group dynamic should allow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overwhelming

Korea is very, very different from Los Angeles.

It’s not the first time that Joshua has had this realisation. It hit him first when he was walking through Incheon airport, staring around at the businessmen rushing everywhere, speaking in a language that he only ever used to hear spoken at home amongst his family. Every other word would make him flinch, gave him the niggling feeling that they were all speaking directly to him.

He has these thoughts now, with English words, and Jisoo might have started to slowly lose his sense of home identity, but he doesn’t like to think about it too much.

No – right now, his mind is on the boy standing opposite.

Jeonghan runs an absentminded hand through his hair. His little and ring fingers catch on a knot at the end, and he looks up, meeting Joshua’s eyes and flashing a grin.

It takes Joshua a few moments before he smiles back.

The stage lights flash garishly through the curtains. From backstage, he can hear the audience getting restless. It’s been over a month since they started promotions, and Joshua still hasn’t gotten past the agitation he feels before every single performance; knowing that his own self-image, performance attributes, not-quite-there-yet vocals will only ever be enough to make him scrape through and thank God, thank God that he manages.

A hand clamps down heavily on his shoulder, and Joshua feels like he’s going to throw up.

“You alright?” asks Seungcheol, perspiration giving his brawny arms an ethereal glimmer.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

Seungcheol is standing in front of him now. Joshua pretends not to notice the slight inclination of Jeonghan’s neck, the way that he’s pushed off of the wall to perch behind the elder boy, suddenly interested in their exchange.

“Yeah,” he answers eventually, and the twitch of Seungcheol’s mouth is enough to make him forget all about Los Angeles, shoulders sagging down, heavy, for once, with relief.

“Good,” the leader starts, before the static of Joshua’s headset takes over.

\--

The sofa in the shared dorm living area doesn’t smell like real leather, despite what the manager has told them, and really it just adds to the list of ‘things manager-nim has said that aren’t true’ (or at least, the list that Joshua has compiled in his head).

Joshua vocalises this to the room at large. No one pays any attention except for Jeonghan who, from the usual spot he fills to Joshua’s right, replies, “yeah, I thought that too.”

He looks as if he wants to say more, but stops, and Josh thinks that he’s taught Jeonghan enough himself to be able to fill in the gaps.

“Hey.”

Jeonghan leans in instinctively. They’ve always been cautious about interacting near the other members – always one breath away from being _that_ friendship, the ones that always talk about the wrong things, that always single each other out just a little less naturally than their group dynamic should allow.

“Hm?” he says, voice lowered, running another hand through his hair and blinking the strays out of his eyelids.

“You think we’ll ever get one?”

“What, a proper leather one?”

Joshua leans in further, murmuring a _yeah_ , and the laugh that Jeonghan breathes out clumsily over his face is enough to make his heartstrings twist painfully inside his chest.

Jeonghan doesn’t reply. This often happens, too – moments when the conversation would be forgotten, and all that’s left for Josh to do is to stare into Jeonghan’s knowing eyes, crinkled with mirth, and Joshua can pretend that he put that there.

There’s a wisp of hair misplaced over the other boy’s forehead, and Joshua’s hands itch to reach forward and re-position it.

_I hate it, Jeonghan had said, pushing defeatedly at the bedroom door and tugging the strands with his fingers not-so-gently. Joshua had looked on from his place on the bed and, as the other boy neared, wondered how any boy could be so blind about his own beauty. He almost said as much – but then Jeonghan was next to him, and the only job he could put his mind to was being the shoulder to cry on, holding the other tight and hoping that it translated into something meaningful._

The light changes on Jeonghan’s face, and Joshua feels the air around him shift.

Jeonghan’s eyes, once unfocused, turn sharp on a point over Joshua’s shoulder. A clink of glasses, seemingly in response, and Joshua would turn around if he wasn’t so transfixed by the boy in front of him.

“Boys,” he hears, Soonyoung’s voice taking on an amused lilt.

Jeonghan’s lips curl up into a half-smirk. The movement catches Joshua’s attention, and it was a mistake to let himself look, because all the images swirling in his thoughts quickly turn into—

He coughs, finally breaking gaze in favour of staring down at his own knees.

“What, you want to help us plan?”

“Depends. What are you guys planning?”

Joshua sucks in a breath. He turns around carefully, being met by the mischievous grin of the performance team leader, and decides that he needs to get some air.

 _Excuse me_ he hears himself say, and in a second he’s up, 19 year old legs carrying him shakily into the kitchen as he stubbornly, steadfastly, does not let himself think about Yoon Jeonghan.

-

He messed up.

He messed up, he messed up, he messed up and the mantra plays on repeat in Joshua’s head as he stumbles unsteadily down the stairs, breath still coming out in uneven bursts and hands shaking with the effort of blocking out the images from a few moments ago, so that he doesn’t have a nervous breakdown right there and then.

The staff in the backstage area greet them as if nothing is wrong, and Joshua puts on a blank smile, eyes searching for the one person he’s been avoiding altogether—

“Joshua! Great job! Junhwe, you too, only two more performances to go—“

“Seungcheol,” Joshua says, arm reaching out the grab the other boy’s attention, “I’m going to the toilet real quick, tell them to wait for me.”

The leader nods dumbly, and Joshua barely waits for a response before he’s off, damn near jogging in the direction of the corridor.

It isn’t long before he finds the male restrooms, and his mind is still whirring as he steps through the door, nose filling with the scent of lemon detergent and hand sanitiser.

Joshua takes controlled steps towards the mirrors. He stops in front of them, letting his eyes slip shut.

It’s only at this point that Joshua allows himself to replay the short exchange he had with their leader.

Great, he’d said. That was the adjective that he had used.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe the others didn’t notice his error. Chan had noticed, that was for sure – Chan was the one who, after throwing Joshua into the air, had been stumbled into, with Joshua tripping over his feet and almost sending himself flying 5 feet from the stage to the floor below.

Chan had caught him just in time, apologising not-so-subtly, and the rest of the performance had passed by in a blur.

Blur.

Joshua realises that he’s been thinking in English all this time, and he pushes himself away from the sink, intent on sitting down somewhere.

Except that, once he’s opened the cubical door, he’s met with a Korean-style toilet.

It’s nothing. It’s really, really nothing, but for some reason – for some reason, it just makes Joshua—

He bites the inside of his cheek.

Joshua steps out of the cubical, still having the presence of mind to make sure the door doesn’t catch him as he slams it shut, and that’s when the first wave of tears hits him.

It’s everything. The tiled wall is cool against his shoulder as he presses himself into it, face all screwed up, and gosh, Joshua is a legal adult in this country; he should not be acting this way, but the thought escapes him as he bring an arm up to cover his eyes, the buzzing strip light overhead suddenly too bright, too industrial. Somehow through the emerging headache Joshua manages to stand upright, and gets it together enough to walk towards the sink and turn on the cold tap, messily splashing water onto his face, because, hey, that always works in the movies.

When he’s finished accidentally soaking his shirt with water, he turns around to perch on the edge of the counter. Without even thinking, the singer lets his head loll back against the mirror, and begins to recite The Lord’s Prayer.

He gets about halfway through before the door to his left creaks open. Joshua jerks away from the mirror, the second _heaven_ getting lost somewhere in the back of his throat.

The boy hastily tries to fix his hair as he turns to look at the newcomer, and is surprised to see Jeonghan blinking back at him.

“Jeonghan,” says Joshua, voice cracking, “shit, Jeonghan.”

The mere sight of the other boy causes Joshua to lose it all over again, and he hunches himself back over the sink, embarrassment overwhelming him even more than the relief of seeing the person that can help him the most. The tears come out fast, streaming down his face and mixing with his snot and this time, Joshua swears that he’s about to vomit, but then Jeonghan’s by his side and murmuring words that Joshua’s not even in the right state of mind to listen to properly.

“I messed up on stage,” he blurts out, “and Chan almost hurt himself, and, Jesus, Jeonghan, do you even realise? All the things we’ve trained so hard for – our reputation, the choreo, it would have all gone down the drain. I should have trained harder, I should have—“ he breaks off, letting Jeonghan pull him up into an awkward hug.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, please don’t cry.”

“No big deal?” says Joshua, trying his hardest to keep his bottom lip from trembling. “Even when I come to Korea, I can’t do anything right. And everything is different here, too, and I can’t adjust to it – you did so well, joining the group late, but when I came I barely even knew the language.” He sniffs, taking a deep breath, and suddenly Jeonghan is pushing tissues into his face, wiping up the mess around his nose like he’s a child.

“Jeonghan, stop, that’s gross—“

“Be quiet,” he says, dabbing the tissue gently over Joshua’s reddened cheeks, and Joshua cracks his eyes open, blurred vision distorting the image of Jeonghan’s face, twisted in concentration.

“I miss home,” says Joshua, meekly.

“I miss home too. But the bus is leaving in ten minutes, and then we’ll be back at the dorms, and we can sleep, if we want.”

“I don’t mean the dorms—the dorms aren’t my home, they’re just the dorms.”

“And why not?” The tears have slowed down a little, and Jeonghan throws the used tissues into the sink, reaching a hand over to the tissue-dispenser to grab more.

“Thank you—really, thank you,” says Joshua, finally being allowed to clean himself up as Jeonghan hands over the tissues and settles for leaning a hip against the counter. There’s a momentary lull in the conversation.

Joshua tries his hardest to look everywhere except Jeonghan.

“Are you okay now?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

He clears his throat, moving forwards to get to the bin at the far side, and Jeonghan grabs his arm unexpectedly.

“No, you’re not,” he says, and Joshua looks up. Allows himself to study the other boy’s face, the furrowed brows, the narrowed eyes.  The pretty, pursed lips.

Joshua doesn’t respond, because he doesn’t know how to.

“Joshua?”

“Huh?”

“Why were you avoiding me?”

This catches him off-guard. From consoling, to chastising – if Joshua wasn’t speechless before, he certainly is now, because this isn’t the Jeonghan that he knows.

“Or,” he starts, deflecting the question, “maybe I should ask if _you’re_ okay.”

“Joshua. Please,” says Jeonghan, and despite the unfamiliarity of the situation, Joshua still finds it in himself to feel guilty. “Please. Just give me a reason.”

 _I was embarrassed_ he thinks to himself, _I wanted to kiss you. You’re so overwhelming, Jeonghan, do you know that?_ He stares at Jeonghan’s lips, maybe for a beat too long, before catching himself, bringing a hand up to rub over his face in defeat.

Taking a deep breath, he lies, closing his eyes so that the guilt won’t hit him: “I wasn’t avoiding you. I wasn’t.”

There’s no answer from the other boy. Joshua slowly exhales, flinching when he feels a hand around his wrist.

“Joshua,” says Jeonghan, and Joshua wasn’t expecting him to be that close, wasn’t expecting the smug tone that came along with it.

“Joshua. Please, answer me.”

“I’ve answered you,” Joshua almost shouts, and it takes a lot for Joshua to get mad at someone but his eyes are open now and Jeonghan is right there, right in front of him, strip light shining behind his head like a goddamn halo, and he’s too close, and all Joshua can look at is his _pretty_ mouth—

“Or, is it,” Jeonghan begins, lips curling up into an almost catlike grin. “Is it that you like me?”

Jeonghan has always been the bolder of the two. From introducing himself to Joshua on the first day, to sitting next to him every 17TV broadcast thereafter, to (and Josh laughs, has to laugh) assuming that Joshua, the foreign, strictly religious vocalist who even had a girlfriend once, would have it in him to fall for another boy.

Of course, Jeonghan would be the one to go looking for Joshua, even after the other had selfishly avoided contact with him for the past week, up to the point of modifying his shower time so that they’d barely bump into each other. Of course, Jeonghan would be the one comforting him now, eyebrow raised attractively under his bangs and delicate fingers still wrapped around Joshua’s wrist.

And, of course, Jeonghan’s intuition has never been wrong.

Joshua raises his chin, taking a shaky breath in again as he stares Jeonghan directly in the eyes. “Well,” he says, faltering a little but managing to keep his composure. “So what if I do?”

Jeonghan doesn’t react.

In fact, Jeonghan doesn’t react for so long that Joshua lets his chin drop back down, cowering back into himself as he turns away, crestfallen, half-disappointed that he thought it would change anything and half-mindful of the fact that Jeonghan has yet to step back.

“Hey. Forget it,” says Joshua, aiming for lighthearted, but then Jeonghan’s hand is on his chin, gently nudging his face back in the other boy’s direction, and all that fills Joshua’s senses is the soft, warm feeling of Jeonghan’s mouth on his.

The kiss only lasts for a few moments, but it’s enough to leave Joshua dizzy nonetheless.

“Does that answer your question?”

Joshua’s eyes flutter open. He notices the flush on Jeonghan’s cheeks, and thinks that his must look something similar, if the burning sensation is anything to go by.

Those few strands of hair have managed to find themselves in front of Jeonghan’s face again, and this time Joshua lets himself slowly reach forwards, shakily tucking them behind the other boy’s ear.

There’s silence for a few moments, before Jeonghan speaks again.

“C’mon. Let’s go back to the others.”

Joshua swallows, barely having the mental capacity to make a noise of assent, and then Jeonghan is stepping backwards. His fingers are still loosely enclosed around his wrist, though, so Joshua looks up, making eye contact with the other once more.

The Korean-American looks insecure, terrified, or a mix of both – well, that’s what he guesses, because instead of an explanation Jeonghan flashes him a warm, hesitant smile.

It takes Josh a few moments before, decisively, he smiles back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted to [livejournal](http://libaax.livejournal.com/1397.html)


End file.
